Radiance
by Lia Whyteleafe
Summary: Fingolfin holds his newborn grandson for the first time.


Radiance

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Worse luck.**

**I don't quite know what makes a fan-fiction fluffy, but this one probably falls under that category.**

It has been a long time since Fingolfin has been to Dor-lómin. If the herald sent by Fingon had not been delayed, he would have arrived sooner. As it is, Rochallor is nearly exhausted from galloping from Hithlum so rapidly.

The stable-master leads Rochallor and the other horses away for a well-deserved rest, and Fingolfin marches up the steps of Fingon's hall with his entourage behind him. The oak doors swing open to admit them, and the High King of the Noldor strides in.

Light streams through the glass windows and creates bright pools on the floor. The pools are divided by shadows of marble pillars. Blue and silver banners hang from the ceiling. The banner right at the back of the hall is adorned with the heraldic emblem of Fingolfin's house; standing underneath the banner is the High King's firstborn son and heir.

Fingon takes a few paces forwards and kneels respectfully before the King. Upon being told to rise, he does so. "Welcome to Dor-lómin,_ aranya_," he says. Addressing an attendant standing slightly to the side, he requests that the King's entourage be shown to their rooms. In the space of a minute, Fingolfin is alone with his son.

There is something in Fingon's face that has never been there before. His eyes – it is as if two Silmarils have been set there and are shining for all to see.

Fingolfin smiles, and holds out his arms; Fingon steps into them and the King holds his son close.

"It is good to see you, my son," he says. He releases Fingon, and looks at him with a questioning look on his face.

"Follow me, Father."

... ... ...

Fingon opens the door, and together the two Elves enter the room. Compared to the hallway, the room is simple and plainly decorated. A large bed is at one end of the room, and beside it is a beautifully carved wooden cradle.

In the bed reclines a dark-haired lady. Seeing the King and his son, she tries to get up; but Fingon quickly walks to her side and kisses her forehead.

"Rest, my love," he whispers. She lies back upon the pillow, and Fingolfin greets his daughter-in-law by kissing her hand. She smiles at him, evidently too weary to do or say anything much.

Fingolfin understands. Anairë had been exactly like that, after she had...

A slight rustling sound draws his attention. Fingon is standing beside the cradle; he reaches down into it and gathers up a bundle wrapped in white.

Fingolfin draws in a silent breath.

Fingon holds the bundle in his arms and gently, very gently, tickles the middle of it with the tip of one finger. The bundle squirms in his hold and emits a small mew; a tender smile blossoms over Fingon's face.

"Ereinion," he says softly.

The unconditional love Fingolfin hears conveyed in that one word causes his throat to tighten as he fights back tears. His son has become a father... He has hoped several times that his children would experience the joy and wonder he did when he was holding them in his arms as tiny newborns. Turgon had that precious moment in Valinor. Aredhel... Maybe one day, she will know how it feels to be a mother.

But this is Fingon's time.

"I would like you to meet your grandfather."

Fingon approaches his father, holding the bundle to his chest – right over his heart. "Father," he murmurs, "this is Ereinion, your grandson." He carefully passes the babe from his arms into his father's.

Fingolfin looks down into his grandson's face; two blue eyes stare up at him from the folds of the blanket. They are not like the soft cornflower-blue of Idril's eyes. These eyes are sharp, and as bright as two stars. They focus directly upon the King's face.

This child – this precious child – is the cause of the radiance in Fingon's face and eyes.

"I am honoured to meet you, Ereinion, son of Fingon." Fingolfin gently strokes the babe's cheek with one finger. "You look just as your father did when he was as tiny as you." Just as the finger moves away, two little hands grasp it tightly as if it is a spear. Fingolfin chuckles with delight.

"He is beautiful," the King whispers to his son. Looking down at the newest member of the house of Fingolfin, he says: "May the stars shine down upon you, scion of kings."

**I have no idea when Gil-galad was born, and I can't remember when Maeglin was. So if I've got details wrong, I apologise.**

**Hope you liked it!**

_aranya_ = king in Quenyan


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